


You Know You’re Right

by LoveNe



Series: Son of a Preacher Man [6]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Agnostic Character, Christian Character, Christianity, Closeted Character, Demyx - Freeform, Gay Male Character, Gen, Religious Discussion, Religious Guilt, Roxas - Freeform, Struggling with faith, Teen Angst, nirvana references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 19:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveNe/pseuds/LoveNe
Summary: Even though he’s the one giving advice, Demyx’s conversation with Roxas lifts his spirits.





	You Know You’re Right

Every year, Demyx’s church gets together to plan a fun event to celebrate the anniversary of the day their church was established. Last year’s event was a Christian music festival. It was surprisingly fun and left Demyx thinking that he should be less standoffish and actually try to enjoy their annual get togethers.

That was before he realized that this year's event is an outdoor picnic.

Picnic’s aren’t bad. In fact, he’d gone on several with his friends in college and had an impromptu one during their Spring Break pride event. His current gripe is that the church always has a dress code for every event: modest sundresses for the ladies and business casual attire for the gentlemen, not including polo shirts. Why on  **God’s green earth** would they force the men to wear pants and long sleeve button downs in ninety degree weather? Even worse: there is a perfectly good air conditioned building just a few feet away from their picnic area, but they’re only allowed to go inside to wash their hands or use the restroom.  _ Why  _ rent a recreational center if you’re not going to go inside? They could have done the same thing in a regular old park.

So now Demyx is outside in nearly unbearable heat wearing his regular church attire. Can it get any worse than that? _Yes_. Since he’s an usher in the church, he and all the other ushers are responsible for making sure everyone gets their food, refilling beverages, handing out napkins, and making sure the younger members don’t run away, hurt themselves, or hurt someone else. He gets his food last—everyone else is a priority.

He sighs as he sits down on the bench across from an usher closest to his age. He remembers that this guy is four years older than him, so that should make him twenty-five. The guy smiles at him and offers him a polite nod, which he returns. Thankfully, they don’t exchange words. Demyx really isn’t in the mood—he’s tired, he’s sweaty, he’s hungry and he’s  _ beyond _ annoyed.

Right as he’s about to take a bite of the delicious looking casserole that Ms. Gainsborough brought, his father and mother stand up to address everyone. He mutters some not so nice words under his breath as he puts his fork down and turns toward them to listen to them speak. (Their church has this ridiculous rule that it’s impolite to eat while someone is speaking.) Everyone quiets down as he clears his throat, and Demyx fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” His father pauses as the members respond in varying degrees of excitement. Demyx gets joy out of purposely not responding. “I want to thank you all for coming out to celebrate the 125th anniversary of Passion Christ Evangelical Church. Not a lot of churches make it past the one hundred year mark anymore, and every year I am as grateful as the last. Glory be to the Most High for bringing us together safely. Please bow your heads for prayer so that we may all thank Him properly.”

By the time his father had said the word “bow,” every head—including Demyx’s—was lowered and every eye shut. It required no thinking. After several years of the same routine, it has become second nature to all of them. Demyx’s mind wanders to other things as his father’s voice drones on. He can’t help but wonder what Axel is doing as this very moment. He’s been so busy helping his parents plan for this event that he hadn’t been able to talk to him much. His mouth forms a frown as his attention shifts to the weight of his phone in his pocket. Would it be so bad if he…?

“—in Jesus’ name, amen.”

Demyx mumbles a soft  _ amen  _ and lifts his head. He picks the plastic fork up again and lifts the casserole to his mouth.

“Really quickly!” his mother chirps, and he sighs as he lowers the utensil to the paper plate. The guy across from him chuckles, and they share a look of mutual exasperation. “I promise this announcement won’t take long. Demy, could you come up here for a second?”

“Can I  _ eat  _ for a second?” he hisses. The other usher laughs again as Demyx stands and makes his way over to his parents. His mother smiles brightly as she rests a hand on his upper arm. “We all remember that Demyx here was accepted into Hollow Bastion University a few years ago. As proud of him as we were—and still are—we’re excited to announce that Demyx will receive the rest of his education right here in Twilight Town. Our baby boy is coming home.”

He forces a smile as the church members clap on his behalf. They most likely believe it was his decision and that he was probably homesick or wanted to be more involved in the church. The thought turned his stomach because he knew his father wouldn’t let him off the hook for his church duties now. No, he would expect him to juggle both and still be sane at the end of the semester.

Of course, the church expects him to say something. They expect him to be happy and teary eyed and to say something sweet about missing all of them. They don’t know how trapped he feels. They don’t know that this is the last thing he wants. They don’t know that when he leaves this picnic he’s going to self destruct  _ again  _ and try to fix it in a really unhealthy, sinful way.

A plastic smile comes to his lips as he glances at his father’s identical plastic expression before speaking. He can’t help but be bitter. He feels like he’s been set up, in a way. “What my mother said is true: I am coming home. I’m...really going to miss attending HBU. It’s become like a second home to me. I will never forget the amazing people that I’ve met and all the wonderful opportunities I’ll be leaving behind, but my father needs me here. I literally  _ couldn’t _ say no.”

His father places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes a bit too tight as he addresses the church again. Demyx doesn’t want to hear it. He just wants to  _ eat  _ and go home.

“And with that said, enjoy the festivities. God bless.”

Demyx returns to his casserole with a heavy heart. The other usher shoots him a curious look, but he hides his disdain behind another plastic smile as he picks up his fork once more. He’s lost a bit of his appetite, but he knows he needs to put something on his stomach so he doesn’t pass out in all this heat.

“Hey, Demyx?”

And once again, Demyx lowers the food back to his plate. He holds back a disappointed sigh as he turns toward the voice. It’s one of the younger, newer members of the church. Demyx  _ knows  _ him, although they’ve only spoken a grand total of five times. His father talks about him a lot and often compares Demyx to him. His hair is always neat and his clothes are always pressed. His face and ears are free of piercings and his wrists and neck hold no jewelry. He looks more like what you would expect the preacher’s son to look like and that’s exactly why Demyx’s father won’t shut up about him.

“Hey, Roxas. What do you need?” he smiles politely.

“I was um...I hope I’m not bothering you first of all. I was wondering when would be a good time to speak with you privately? I have a question that I’d like to run by you before I go to Pastor Wise with it.”

This was exactly what he did not want to get used to again. So many people come to him for help and spiritual advice as if he knows everything his father claims to know and magically has all the answers. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he can’t decline. As the preacher’s son, he’s practically obligated to help with whatever this kid needs. He has nothing against him, he just doesn’t want to do anything else right now. 

Too bad he doesn’t have any wants here.

“I’m not doing anything right now. Do you wanna step inside—?”

“ _ Yes _ . Please. I-If you don’t mind.”

Demyx senses that something is  _ very _ wrong. Suddenly his casserole doesn’t seem all that important. He stands up as quickly as he can without drawing much attention to himself and escorts Roxas inside the building. Sure they aren’t allowed to be inside, but is anyone really going to question him besides his father? Not even  _ he  _ would reprimand him publicly. It would ruin the image of him having a perfect and unified family that he’d put so much time and effort into building.

It takes Roxas a few moments to get himself together once they’re indoors. Demyx watches carefully as his sunny disposition crumbles. He feels like he’s witnessing a mental breakdown.

“I’m sorry for lying,” he says softly. “But I did something awful and I... _ can’t  _ tell Pastor Ansem because he’s going to tell my parents and that’s just going to make everything worse and I really can’t handle worse right now. I just need it to  _ stop _ .”

Demyx grabs him by the shoulders the second the boy starts trembling. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell the pastor anything and neither do I. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll try to help you fix it.”

Roxas looks up at him with a look that Demyx knows all too well. He can see the fear and shame and self hatred in his deep blue eyes. His lips tremble as tears gather at the bottom of his lids. “Last night, I slept over a-at my best friend’s house. I swear I don’t know how it happened or what lead to it but we…” He glances at the entrance of the rec center. “I’m not a virgin anymore.”

The older man sighs deeply as he gives the boy’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. The irony of him having to give someone advice about fornication is not lost on him. “Roxas, that’s okay. You’re still sixteen. You’re  _ going  _ to get into stuff and make wild and reckless decisions. This is—”

“I think I’m in love with him.”

Demyx’s words die in his throat as Roxas’ tears drip down his cheeks. He’s barely holding it together. In this moment, he sees a younger version of himself. He remembers how this feels; he remembers denying it, being angry with himself for letting it happen, getting sad because he’s apparently a disgusting abomination, bargaining with God to  _ please  _ take it away from him, and finally allowing guilt to consume him as he accepted who he was. The only person who was around to help him grieve  _ himself  _ was Zexion. As much as he loved his best friend, the poor guy didn’t know any better than he did back then.

His first genuine smile of the day is a sad one. “So tell him.”

Roxas’ brow pinches together. He’s now staring at Demyx like he’s speaking another language. “I can’t...tell him that, Demyx, it’s wrong. I’m—”

“Who the fuck’s going to fight you about it?” Demyx immediately regrets swearing when he sees the color drain from the young boy’s face. He laughs at his own stupidity and shakes his head. “Roxas, there’s absolutely  _ nothing _ wrong with loving someone or being in love.”

Roxas sniffs. “But doesn’t the bible say—”

“The bible says a lot of things,” Demyx frowns. “It’s a huge book full of rules and demands and warnings and _signs and wonders_.” He holds up a single finger as he leans his upper half closer to Roxas. “According to my dad, at least. He preaches a lot on what we should and shouldn’t do to please God. Isn’t that boring? I’d much rather hear about how much He loves me no matter what. That’s in the bible too. I’d like to hear more about how everyone sins and no one is perfect. _That’s_ in there. It also says that God knows and sees everything even before it happens. He knew you were going to go through this before it happened, so how angry can he really be?”

Roxas opens his mouth, but Demyx stops him. “And if he is indeed angry with us for being gay, he damn well better be angry at the people who are murdering gay and trans people. Because murder is wrong. I’ve read that God  _ is _ love. The bible describes him as kind, forgiving, and patient, not some angry sky dude who’s stuck up and hard to please.”

Roxas sniffs again as he reaches up to dry his face, only to have fresh tears replace the older ones. “What about my parents? What if they don’t accept me? What if they get mad at me and kick me out?”

Demyx folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. He smirks as he realizes just where he picked up this habit from. “Or, hear me out...what if you don’t tell them?” He can tell by the look on his face that this is a foreign concept to Roxas. He probably still tells his parents everything. He’s probably never disappointed anyone in his entire life. “Listen, you do _ not  _ have to come out to anyone you feel won’t accept you or will put you in danger. Your safety and mental health is way more important. Figure out who you are first, because that in itself is a battle.”

“But...wouldn’t that make me a bad person for hiding it from my parents?”

Demyx shakes his head as a frown pulls at his lips. “No. You don’t owe anyone information about your sexuality. Some people don’t deserve to know who you are.”

Roxas gulps. “And what if I go to Hell?”

There have been many sleepless nights where Demyx has asked himself this same question. The truth is he doesn’t know. He doesn’t have a concrete answer to this question because he can’t physically prove  _ or  _ disprove that Hell is real or that those bible verses are actually the words of some supernatural being. But he does know the fear of being a closeted gay man in a strict religious setting. That pain is real. The tears he shed were real. Roxas is a real boy with a real problem, so he’ll get a  _ real _ answer. 

“Then don’t put yourself through it twice. You deserve to be happy while you’re on this earth.”

The shorter blond nods gently. “Thank you, Demyx. Maybe now I can finally sleep at night.”

Demyx holds his arms out, and Roxas doesn’t hesitate to hug him. And he squeezes him tightly, hoping to pour all the love left in his battered and bruised heart into this boy. “Come talk to me anytime about  _ anything _ . You’re not alone and I will never judge you.”

Roxas nods as he curls his fingers around Demyx’s shirt. The action makes Demyx want to cry. He wants this boy to love and be loved back, to be happy and healthy, and to be secure in himself without fear or guilt.

“Go wash your face. I’ll give you my number before we leave and you can call or text me if you ever need to. Or if you just want to talk, that’s okay too.”

The smile he receives from the teen warms his heart. He looks so relieved and Demyx just wants to hug him forever. “Thank you. This isn’t at all how I expected this conversation to turn out, but I’m glad I came to you.”

Demyx grins. “Maybe it was God that brought you to me specifically. He works in mysterious ways,” he says, genuinely trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Roxas laughs as he wipes his face again. He lingers for a while, and Demyx’s brow furrows. “Hey, Demyx—”

The door to the rec center opens, and they turn their heads to see Demyx’s mother. “Demy, what are you doing in here? We’re an usher short and the kids are getting out of control.”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Roxas had some questions and I answered them. I’m coming right out.”

His mother gives him an odd look. It’s neither angry nor accusatory, but he can see the cogs turning in her head. She’s about to pull another stunt like the one she pulled outside. “That’s fine. But we need you out here  _ now _ .”

Demyx huffs as he shoves his hands in his pockets and starts walking toward the exit. “Take care, Roxas.”

“Wait!”

Demyx stops and looks over his shoulder. He can only hope that Roxas doesn’t assume that his mother is as tolerant as he is and says something damning in front of her.

“Earlier you said... _ us. _ ..” he trails off.

Demyx fights to keep the wicked grin off his face. He was hoping he caught on to that. “That’s right.”

He watches as the worry and pain fades from Roxas’ features. He’s never seen anyone look so relieved and hopeful before. “You are a blessing.”

He hides his smile from his mother as he waves goodbye to the boy and leaves the building to continue his usher duties. Except he doesn’t feel as annoyed as he did before he entered the rec center.

Roxas...really called him a  _ blessing _ . Maybe he‘s doing something right for once. Maybe things are finally starting to go right in his life.

“Oh, we had to throw your casserole away because a few flies landed on it. I hope you don’t mind.”

This is the worst day of his life.


End file.
